Sisyphus

Sisyphus was an interesting character. As Wikipedia tells it, he was often considered a really crafty man, willing to break common laws of decency to get what he needs. For a time, he considered himself a God, claiming his own cleverness on par with that of Zeus.

What most people know about Sisyphus, though, is what happens after he died. Sisyphus was punished in the afterlife by being forced to push a boulder up a hill; once at the top, the boulder would roll to the bottom, causing him to start the whole process over again. For all eternity. It's not clear why, but this punishment is for his trickery (Wikipedia suggests that he demanded his wife defile his body by throwing it naked into the public square; he demanded this to test how much his wife loved him). If even half that tales attributed to his name are true, then he deserves this punishment. The guy was really a pretty big dick.

Thus, a sisyphean task is one that requires the person to repeat a mind numbing, arduous task for eternity. It's implied that not a lot of inherent good that comes with the eternal toil of the sisyphean task. What happiness can a man really find in pushing a boulder around for the rest of time? Who wants to be known as the guy wearing a rut into the mountain side as he unsuccessfully pushes a boulder to the top.

I wonder, though, about the nature of this punishment. I get why someone would see it unpleasant: Sisyphus has to do the same banal task every day, all day, for all of time. He'll never know the joy of success. He'll only know the disappointment of failure. Each day, everything that he's accomplished is moot, washed away like so many sandcastles on the beach.

I am in the middle of writing my thesis, which I have earlier compared to building a house on sand. This is going to be the most massive project I will ever work on: 100,000 words focused on a single idea. There is really no way to sit and write this in any linear fashion. In fact, there is really no way to write this in any sort of singular fashion. There is no way my mind could comprehend and synthesize all the ideas I have been reading across the time span it would take to research a piece of 100,000 words.

Instead, I have found that I can write a bunch of 10,000 word chunks, building chapters piece-meal. Right now, I have a good start on an introduction for a project I am no longer writing; 10,000 words on time and comics that I only sort of believe anymore; and 10,000 words on textual and pictorial narration that I just finished and thing is the bee's knees. Currently, I am reworking the time chapter, expanding what was missing, and refocusing some of the looser sections. I remember, when I finished writing it, thinking I would never need to return to that chunk again, save to fix some comma errors and to flesh out one or two weaker sections.

Little did I know that, while pushing a different boulder up the hill, the other boulders I had written settled at the bottom of the hill. Writing this is like sysiphean juggling. Just as one boulder gets near the top, the others have settled again at the bottom.

But here's the thing: as long as I am writing this, I know what I am going to be doing. I am going to be working on this. Every day I wake up, there is a goal on which I can focus my attention. It's a cumbersome, shifty goal, and one that sometimes gives me headaches to think about, but nonetheless, a goal. It helps add structure to my life, which, as a student, lacks structure.

Once I get all the boulders to the top, then what? That's a scary question, and one I have been actively avoiding for the better part of my life. Obviously, I'll need to get a job. But where? Do I want to stay here? Do I want to go somewhere new? Do I want to return to America? These are no small questions; what I am essentially deciding is what new set of boulders I want.

Getting a job in academia has it's advantages. Namely, I am not hemmed in to any certain location. I've thought about Australia and New Zealand recently. Helsinki has a really neat vibe, and a new English-language program that will need good lecturers. Canada, despite being Canada, has some really excellent universities, progressive enough to find an expert in comics pretty sexy. Of course, all of this depends on the availability of jobs, but more than likely, something will be available in any English-speaking country.

But, finding a job is not that simple. Even if I get a part-time job, am I going to continue looking in that general vicinity? Am I going to keep bouncing around the globe taking part-time, adjunct positions for a while? I'm not getting any younger, and I would like to eventually settle down with someone. Is there anyone who wants to globe trot like I do? Making the wrong decision at the end of this could put me at the bottom of a terrible mountain, with boulders that are particularly awful.

The thing is: the darkness that lay ahead of me, beyond the goal I am working on, makes this sysiphean task seem pretty good by comparison. I like what I do. I like reading books and comics. I like thinking hard about complicated narrative processes. I like meeting with other intellectuals to discuss my writing, and to have my ideas challenged. Granted, I'll never own a car, a house, or even rent a space much bigger than this closet the school give me now. Maybe, though, ownership is overrated when compared to knowing what the future holds.

I guess the point of this is that I envy Sisyphus. He seems to have shown again that he is the most clever man: for the rest of his life, he knows what he has to do.